Even Angels Fall
by Buffy-Angelus
Summary: Alternate Hero ending. Doyle doesn't sacrifice himself, but someone else does.


Title:  Even Angels Fall

Author:  Buffy_Angelus (Paige)

Rating:  PG-15 (language, not explicit sex but it's there, character death) I thought PG-13 was too low but R was too high.  Tell me what u think it should be.

Disclaimer:  Do I have to say it?  *Joss holds up a pair of gleaming hot pokers*  Awwwwwwww… fine… I don't own Angel, his leather pants, or anything else that relates with BTVS or AtS.  *sniff sniff*

Spoilers:  Hrm… I'd say none.

Summary:  Alternate "Hero" ending.  Doyle doesn't sacrifice himself… but someone else does [er… they don't sacrifice DOYLE, they sacrifice themselves… that's superly badly written, ne?  Hopefully the fic is better written than that ^^]

Distribution:  E-mail me (Buffy_Angelus13@hotmail.com) to let me know where it's going.

Feedback:  Does Angel/us look good in leather pants?  *that'd be a yes for all you cynical/evil types*

The three stared at the beacon in awe.  So magnificent and beautiful.  Yet…

"What does that thing do?"  Doyle asked, perplexed.

"It's light kills anything with human blood," Angel answered.  The other two didn't bother to question how he knew.

Doyle looked at Angel nervously.  "Well it's getting brighter and that doohickey—it's fully armed, isn't it?

"Almost.  If I can pull the cable, I think I can shut it off."

"How're you going to do that without touching the light?"  Doyle asked, although he knew the answer deep down. 

"Angel, that's suicide," Cordelia said.

"There's got to be another way," Doyle said.

Angel looked towards the demons.  There was no other way.  Well, perhaps there was, but their time was dwindling.  It was the only way he could see.

"It's all right."

"No!"  Cordy shouted.

Angel put his hand on Doyle's shoulder.  Doyle returned the gesture by putting his hand on Angel's arm.

"The good fight, yeah?"  Doyle asked.  "You never know until you've been tested—I get that now."  Doyle swung back to punch Angel's face…

…And Angel ducked.  Angel punched Doyle in the face and looked at Cordelia.

"I…I'm sorry," Angel said.  "But I have to do this."

Cordelia nodded, tears flowing down her cheeks.

"I'll never forget what you've done," Cordy said.  "No one will."

Angel nodded and half-smiled.  Angel jumped over the beacon and grabbed a hold of its metal frame.  He pulled the cable connection apart as the light got brighter.  The souled vampire began to burn up.  The beacon suddenly became dark and all that was left of Angel was a pile of dust.

Doyle stroked Cordy's hair absently.  He glanced at the clock on the wall: 9 P.M.  Cordy and he had been like that for nearly three hours.  They had arrived at Cordelia's apartment and Cordy had said she wanted to go to sleep early because she was drained—seeing your friends die was always emotionally challenging—but she had insisted that Doyle stay.  Doyle had sat on the couch for five minutes, thinking about Angel and how their friendship had progressed.  After those five minutes, Cordy had come out of her bedroom in her sweatpants, cheeks tearstained, and had asked if she could rest on him for a little awhile.  He had quickly agreed and she had rested peacefully.

"No…," Cordy murmured.  Doyle watched as her eyes fluttered and she kicked her feet into the couch cushions.  "No!  ANGEL, DON'T!  NO!  ANGEL!"  Her voice began to scream out Angel's name and Doyle didn't need to guess what her nightmares were about.

"Cordy," he said, shaking her.  "Cordelia!  Princess, wake up!"  Cordelia moaned and opened her eyelids.  In a second she was bawling and using Doyle's t-shirt as a handkerchief.  

"I can't do this!"  Cordelia exclaimed, her voice muffled by his shirt.  

"Cordelia," Doyle said, his eyes wide.  "Buffy."

"What about her?"  Cordelia asked, sniffing.

"She needs to know," Doyle said softly.  Cordelia nodded, tears still streaming down her face.  "Do you want to call?"

Cordelia took a deep breath.  She could mourn Angel later.  Right now she had to be Miss Support-those-who-loved-the-now-dead-Angel.  Her hand shaking, she picked up the phone.

Willow stared at the TV, munching popcorn.

"Riley!  Oh, Riley!" came the slightly (but not slightly enough) muffled voice of Buffy.  Willow groaned.  Were they **still **at it?  They had been up there for hours doing things she didn't want to ask about.

A shrill ringing pierced through Willow's bubble of silence that she was trying to create, providing a distraction from the sex-bunnies upstairs.

"Hello?"  Willow answered.

"Wi-Willow," Cordelia's trembling voice said.  "Hi.  I-is…  Buffy there?"  Willow could hear Cordelia's voice crack and could practically feel her tears.  

"I-it's about…Angel," Cordelia added, before becoming a complete mess and started to bawl again.

"Hello?" a thick Irish voice came on.  "This is Doyle.  I worked with Angel.  Something's… happened."

"It's not an emergency, is it?"  Willow asked.  "I mean…  Buffy's sort of…busy."  A giggle escaped from Willow's throat.

"It is," Doyle said.  "Angel…  Angel's dead."  Willow dropped the phone and sunk onto the floor, staring at the wall ahead of her.  Although the phone was quite a few feet away, she could still hear Cordelia crying for Angel.

"Riley," Buffy moaned.  _God…  Angel's so—NO!  NO THINKING ABOUT ANGEL!  THIS IS RILEY!  RILEY!  RILEY!_

"Angel!"  Buffy shouted.  _Er… that was wrong.  That was definitely the wrong name.  Maybe he didn't not—_

"What?"  Riley nearly shouted.

"Er…," Buffy began, flushed.

Buffy nearly burst out in a joyous song when Willow provided an interruption by opening the door.  Then she realized that both she and Riley were naked.  Not good.

"Willow!" she shouted.  She began to start in on her for not knocking, until she noticed that the small girl was paler than usual and her eyes were puffy and red from crying.

"What is it?"  Buffy forced herself to say, though it came out only a whisper.

"It's Angel," Willow said listlessly, almost like a mindless clone.  She simply stared straight ahead.

"Angel?"  Buffy asked, trying to veer her thoughts from what she knew would come out of Willow's mouth.

"He's dead."

The room was utterly still for a few peacefully silent moments, until tears poured from Buffy's eyes.

"What?"  Buffy gasped.  She reached for her shirt, pulled it over her head automatically, and searched around for other garments.

"Buffy, what are you doing?"  Riley asked.  Buffy stared at Riley as if he was insane.  Which he was, but that was besides the point.

"I mean…," he continued, blushing.  "We were sorta…"  He coughed a few times in case she didn't get her point.  She had.  After all, she wasn't him, an idiotic, mindless, farm boy/G. I. Joe.

"I'm sorry if my first love's **death** prevents you for meeting your daily sex requirements," Buffy said, oddly calm, "but I have things to attend to right now that are—believe it or not—more important than you."  And at that word, she collapsed onto the ground, her eyes pouring out tears.

"Why?" was the only thing she managed to utter as her tears consumed her.  


End file.
